Meredith stood with her back against the bitter wind and crouched her small frame into the large coat she wore. In vain, she searched for a friendly face among the other four teenagers.

Any acknowledgment of hesitant camaraderie would be welcome; a shared nervous glance, a smile, a wink, anything. None of the other four Apprentices gathered before the boundary to the Academy looked her way.

The boundary was almost invisible, but sometimes the light from the street lamps would catch its iridescent glimmer, and Meredith would see the wall of magic around the Academy of Sorcerers.

It was a shimmer, like an obscenely large soap bubble. It totally encompassed the stonework building, in front of which the small group was gathered.

The Academy building was gothic and very impressive. It did not have the upward momentum of a cathedral, choosing to sprawl rather than reach to the heavens. In the gloom of night, Meredith could barely make out the finer details, but she spotted buttresses, thin tall windows, and cloisters with elegant columns.

It looked rather like a monastery. Meredith had a distinct impression that she was being given up to a convent. Maybe, that would have been a better path for her anyway. But, the quiet life of a nun was not what destiny had in mind for Meredith.

They could not cross the obstinate soap bubble. One of the teenagers, a short boy with dark, slicked-back hair, tried to stride through like the Academy was his backyard patio, but as soon as he came in contact with the shimmering wall, he was knocked back, landing in an undignified heap on the smooth, age-worn cobbles.

His chaperone, maybe his father or an uncle, helped the boy up. Meredith thought she heard the man scold the boy, but the words were lost in the driving wind.

There were two other boys, besides the one who fell. One had fair hair and glasses. He was accompanied by a man and a woman, presumably his father and mother.

Another boy was rather gangly and toothy. He had no chaperone, no one to accompany him.

At the very end of the group, farthest from Meredith was another girl. She was tall, wearing all black, and had a grim and focused expression on her pale face.

Meredith resumed staring forward, her mother’s reassuringly warm hand clutching her shoulder. It was the only source of comfort against the biting winter wind, and the fear of the unknown which lay before Meredith.

But, her mother would be gone soon, back to the little town Meredith Taylor called home. And all her strength and courage would go with her mother, leaving Meredith with nothing but her roiling stomach and her shaking hands.

Meredith’s mother would probably take the first train back, tomorrow morning, intent on re-opening their little café. The dear little café, at the end of a dead-end street, off a rarely traveled road, in an obscure town, where no one ever visited. They had almost closed the last three years, but somehow, Meredith's mother always managed to squeak by.

Meredith stood on the cobbled road with four other young adults, all crowded by their respective chaperones, hoping against hope that here, finally, she might fit in. Maybe, if fortune truly smiled on young Meredith, she would even make friends. But looking around, Meredith didn’t think it was likely.

The Academy only admitted the top of the top, the creamiest of the crop, and she was only there by pure happenstance. A chance encounter threw Meredith on this path, and she felt she was woefully underprepared.

The street lamps threw their shadows wildly out of proportion. A figure emerged from the brick building. He strode through the courtyard, decorated with greenery, and stopped in front of the shivering group.

He was familiar to Meredith. Imposing, greying, and important, this man was Grand Master Reymous, the head of the Academy. He didn’t waste time and immediately began to speak.

“I address now those that have brought forth the newest Apprentices,” He looked around at the parents, standing behind their teenagers. Everyone fell silent when the Grand Master started to speak.

“You may leave. The Apprentices will begin their Initiation tonight. I will keep you informed, but know this, very little communication is allowed during the course of an Initiation. Say your goodbyes now.”

Meredith turned to her mom and gave her a very long hug. Her mom whispered comforting words in her ear, and Meredith let one tear fall down her cheek, hoping that her mother’s curly hair would hide this sign of weakness from the other Apprentices, and from Master Reymous.

Everyone hurried under Master Reymous’s piercing gaze. It was only a few minutes, and then all the chaperones were leaving, far down the street, and growing smaller. Meredith was alone, with four other teenagers that she had never met before.

Meredith looked around at the other young apprentices, now standing alone and shivering in the night. Maybe she could get along with the other girl in their group? Meredith looked over; the other girl was so imposing, her expression so haughty, her clothes so fine, well-tailored but severe, that Meredith was sure that this young woman would have nothing to do with a squat little nobody like herself.

As they passed through the shimmering boundary, Meredith felt ticklish. She was not the only one. The others all twitched and squirmed, as they crossed over onto Academy property. And although they did not know it, it would be some time before any of them would cross back over the boundary, the dividing line between Sorcery and mundane life.

“This is Black Abbey,” Master Reymous spoke, as they crossed the courtyard. “The birthplace of the Twilight King. It has passed through many hands and has seen hundreds of masters. It is my great pleasure to welcome you here, to the womb of modern Sorcery, as well as the starting point of your own road into the powers of twilight and shadow.”

He led them inside into one of the taller buildings. It appeared that it was once a chapel. The pews were still there, as well as a raised podium, from which a priest might deliver his sermon. All religious regalia had been stripped, however. There were only pews and candles, and the hush of the nervous young adults.

Master Reymous strode over to the raised dais and turned back to them. All the apprentices huddled in front of him, expectant faces turned towards the older man.

“First, understand this,” Master Reymous began speaking, his voice cacophonously echoing off the tall, stone walls, “This is not some home brew, country-bumpkin Initiation. You are attending the finest magical institution. As such, we expect only the highest quality of students. And this is why you’re here. You are not here to become some backwoods cunning folk, dealing spells, and potions for a Bone or two. You are here to become, eventually, Master Sorcerers. The Guild depends on talented young students, such as yourselves, to prove themselves, and then, of course, to remain loyal to the very institution which gave them such a bright start so early in their lives.”

When the Master began his speech, Meredith stood and listened raptly. But he went on, and on, and on. Slowly, her attention waned, as natural as the tide receding off a shoreline. She was, of course, frightened of displeasing this officious man, so she kept her eyes dutifully on him, as she caught bits and pieces of his interminable welcome.

“You will face challenges. You may face them together or alone. But face them you shall, and, hopefully, come out stronger on the other end.”

She snuck glances at the others. The tall girl seemed focused and was probably soaking in Master Reymous’s every word.

“After you have faced the challenges, I will conduct the Closing Ceremony. Provided all of you have passed, you will participate in this Ceremony, and then I will take your magical education in hand.” The Master kept talking. Meredith noticed one of the boys, the one with glasses, fidgeting with his hands in his pockets. His eyes wavered over the dais, languidly, and then started wandering the rest of the chapel.

“With me as your teacher, we will fill in any gaps you have left from your Initiation. We will enhance your skills, your knowledge, but first, you must be left alone, as alone, sans guide, is the way to travel the crooked path of Sorcery, the twisted road which has started in this Abbey a millennia ago.”

Meredith noticed that Master Reymous, (who was still talking) was standing next to a spindly table, on which there were vials of something. She tried to make it out, but the half-light of the candles made it difficult.

“Now, let us begin!” The Master announced and clapped his hands. Meredith snapped to attention, hoping she had not missed something important.

“Mistress Addlebern!” The Master announced.

“Did he say her name was Mistress? What a strange name.” She heard one of the boys whisper to another.

“Addlebern’s daughter! Must be.” She heard another whisper.

Meredith looked at the other girl with a pang of recognition. She had heard, in passing, about General Addlebern. He was, in fact, a national hero, who tragically passed away in a battle against the Southern Rebels, not even two years prior. Meredith, who had lost her own father, looked upon Mistress in admiration. The other girl was so sure, so self-possessed as she strode up to the dais.

Mistress Addlebern curtseyed, formally, in front of the Master Sorcerer, and awaited his words with a noble look of resignation.

“Do you choose to pursue the Sorcerer’s path, the crooked path, the poison path, the path of shadows, which leads through twilight and fog?”

The master droned on and on, describing the path of the Sorcerer as one shrouded in mystery and suspicion, always on the brink of being an outcast, yet always on the verge of being a hero.

Meredith thought that the outcast stuff was rich, coming from one of the most influential institutions in the country,

The old man finished speaking and asked Mistress Addlebern a question.

“Do you accept the path?”

Mistress Addlebern confidently said: “I do, Master.”

Then, the old man handed her a small vial. As Mistress Addlebern held up the vial, Meredith could see that it was stoppered, and full of some kind of dark liquid sloshing languidly in the confines of the glass, glittering like the night sky.

Mistress promptly pocketed the vial and left the dais.

All the boys had found some kind of camaraderie between them, and as the tall girl walked down the stone steps, Meredith could hear them whispering to each other.

Meredith knew that if she had thought that the boys were whispering about her, she would blush from the roots of her hair down to her toes. But Mistress didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She stared on ahead, at the next Apprentice who was called.

Solomon Beaugiron, a toothy, and exceedingly hairy boy strode up to the dais. He cast a dark glance at the other Apprentices, then at the Master Sorcerer.

When the Master gave his short speech, the boy answered yes, but Meredith could feel, like other fidgeting apprentices, that Solomon was not happy to be here. He slouched off the dais, and the next Apprentice was called.

The boys were all called, in succession. Meredith listened intently for their names, wondering if she might recognize another famous General, or perhaps even royalty among them. But none of the other names rang a bell.

The other two boys, Edward Haoulle and Julius Snell followed Solomon. And, before she felt she was truly ready, it was Meredith Taylor’s turn. She walked to the small podium, afraid that her feet would give out with every step. The black boots, a staple of Sorcerers, and which her mother had scrounged for and finally bought her daughter, felt like they would turn on Meredith with a snarl, and trip her on the stone steps leading her up to the wizened Master.

Once she got up to the Master Sorcerer, she was all too nervous to actually listen to the old man's words, unconsciously wringing her hands, feeling the moistness of sweat on her forehead. Before Meredith was aware of what was happening, the Master was done with his speech.

“Do you accept the path?” He asked.

Did she? Meredith did not have too many ambitions in her life. She had come to the Academy solely because she was offered an invitation, by that selfsame Master Reymous, who stood in front of her now, his gray goatee highlighting his frown.

He had seen her working in her mother’s café. She was sweeping the floors, and as she did, she spoke lightly and softly to her broom.

It had become a habit. Years of loneliness had forced her to make friends in the most unlikely places. To Meredith's surprise, sometimes the objects with which she conversed, talked back. The broom was such a case. Sometimes, the fire poker got mouthy. Less frequently, the snails which were all over her mother's little garden complained about the weather.

Let me tell you, this gift did not endear Meredith to her classmates.

When Julie Evans, the blondest and prettiest girl in Meredith's class spied little Meredith clutching a snail, holding it gently to her ear, and listening to the tiny words, Julie had instantly come up with the nickname that would follow Meredith all her years of schooling.

“She’s not just slimy, she’s where the slime is made. Like a slime factory. She’s a slime-ary.”

It wasn’t particularly clever, or particularly funny, but because Meredith was already an outcast, and because most of the other kids adored Julie, Slimeary Taylor was known as such for the foreseeable future.

She had tried to laugh it off, but the kids always jeered, and added other insults on top, until poor Meredith, blushing and almost crying from shame, had to run away, run back to her mother’s dear café.

The café. How many more seasons of a handful of patrons a week, how many more months of being deep in the red, could her mother last, before finally shuttering the cobalt-blue windowpanes, hanging the ‘Closed’ sign, and calling it quits.

It had been her mother’s dream to run a café, but every year that wish proved to be a fine line between dream and nightmare. There just wasn’t good business to be had in Underwood. The town was too small. The patronage was too sparse. And the few, lost or confused travelers who happened to wander through Underwood, generally didn't have enough money to keep the Taylor café, aptly named the Sinking Swan, afloat.

Her mother was ecstatic, when Grand Master Sorcerer Reymous, the only café patron of one stormy November evening (which seemed so long ago but was only a few months prior), announced he would take young Meredith under his wing, and bring her to the Academy.

“A Sorcerer Meredith! Do you know what an opportunity this is? What a golden ticket?” Her mother always tried to be so optimistic. It was just her nature. Even when the café had seen no customers for days, her mother was always preparing for a lunch rush.

“I’m just not sure I’d be very good, is all.” Answered Meredith to her mother, the night before they packed up and headed to the Academy.

“Oh nonsense, of course, you’ll be good. You’ll be great! Do you think that stodgy old man picks up any young lady he sees sweeping the floor? He saw something special in you, Merry!” Her mother’s words, usually a tonic of balm for little Meredith, did not assuage her fears.

She was always the weirdo, the strange girl who hung back in the shadows, too afraid of the other kids to even approach them. Meredith didn’t think the Academy would change that. She would probably stick out like a sore thumb, among the other Apprentices, and it wouldn’t be long before she was treated much in the same way as she was back at school in Underwood.

But, being a Sorcerer was a much more lucrative career than that of a café owner. Maybe, if she did well, she could come back to her mother. She could rescue the café from sure bankruptcy. She could sell mystical potions and arcane artifacts alongside her mother’s baking, bringing much-needed business to the Sinking Swan. Meredith knew that her mother desperately needed something to keep the family from absolute poverty.

“Meredith?” The master’s soft voice drew her out of her own head.

“Y-yes, I do Master.” She answered quickly, because what choice did she have?

The five young Apprentices did not know it, but this was the last day of their former lives, and nothing would be the same in the morning. Or, for that matter, ever again.

All five walked away with an identical vial full of a liquid that resembled stardust and an inky night sky. After they received the vials, they were led by Master Reymous into a room, cramped and not very comfortable, with five identical beds. The Master called it their dormitory.

After all five young men and women filed in, the door clicked shut behind them. Master Reymous did not follow them in. Judging by the welcoming speech, and all the talk of lonesome, perilous roads, it would probably be a long time before the Apprentices would see Master Reymous again.

Sitting on a thin mattress, Meredith examined the vial under the weak lamplight. Her skinny bed had been pushed to one side of the small room, and the Addlebern girl’s bed was right next to Meredith’s.

The boys were on the other side of the room, but there was no wall, not even a curtain, separating the two genders.

Meredith was already a girl of seventeen, but she was still clueless and hopelessly naïve about the opposite gender. Just the idea of sleeping in the same room with three boys made her hopelessly unsure, but also distractingly curious. Would she see the boys changing? It would certainly be a first.

No boy had ever paid Meredith the least scrap of attention. It was a curse, a social death, to be friendly with Slimeary Taylor. Meredith had no idea what the hometown boys thought of her, as they all were in agreement to simply ignore her. And the ones that didn’t, usually only broke the ranks to play some sort of elaborate prank on Meredith, or call her names.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one unsettled by their living arrangements.

“We’re not actually going to live in one room, are we? That’s mad! I mean, there are girls here-” Said a weedy, short boy that Meredith remembered was named Julius Snell. He had dark hair that contrasted sharply with his very pale, and thin face. “That one doesn’t look a day over thirteen. I’m not going to live with little kids, little girls, in the same bedroom!”

“I’m actually seventeen!” Meredith said defensively. “But, I’m short for my age…” She added, unsure, not wanting the Julius boy to pick her as a target of future reprobation.

“Hey, I’m seventeen too!” The boy named Edward said, throwing Meredith a quick, and disposable smile. Meredith clutched at it like it was a life raft.

The Addlebern girl rolled her eyes.

“We’re all seventeen. That’s the age when Initiation is done. Traditionally.” The serious girl said.

Julius Snell complained further about the substandard accommodations. Apparently, his father, an influential banker, had paid for young Julius’s invitation to the Academy.

Mr. Snell must have coughed up a fortune, because even Meredith, who was very dimly aware of the world of Sorcerers knew, that the Academy did not have set tuition. Only the Guild Master, and the Academy Master, may invite Apprentices, at their leisure.

“My father would go berserk if he knew that we had to sleep like this. Even our servants have better rooms, I mean really…”

The boy eventually ran out of steam, and the subject turned to each young Apprentice's family and origins.

“No need to ask yours,” Julius smirked at Mistress, “Everyone knows about Great and Noble General Cassius Addlebern, the Hero of the Southern Wars.”

Meredith looked uneasily at the other girl. She expected a wince of pain, or a grimace of displeasure, having the girl's dead father brought up in such an uncouth manner. But the girl's features remained blank, as though the conversation did not concern her.

“Yes, everyone knows my father.” That was all Mistress had to say.

It turned out that Edward Haoulle was the son of two famous, traveling stage actors.

“Mum and Dad took me on the road everywhere. I’ve been from Provincetown and down to Tunnoipe, oh half a dozen times now.” The tall, bespectacled boy told the room, pushing his glasses up his long nose. “Mum thought I had a gift for magic. I’m not so sure myself, but she had Master Reymous take a look. Old friend of hers. The Master said I would do.”

When Meredith's turn to speak came, she blurted out that she was nobody special, that Master Reymous had seen her working in her mother’s shop, and took an interest.

Her aim was to say the least amount possible, before disappearing from the group’s collective notice, but her explanation only provoked more questions.

“What did you do? Why did he notice you?”

“Did you do magic in front of him?”

“You must have known he was the Master of the Academy. Sly stuff.”

Meredith tried to correct them, but no one listened, the group deciding that Meredith had cunningly planned to impress the Initiation Master, as he visited her mother’s café, and eventually, her turn at introductions was over.

“What about you?” Snell turned to the dark Solomon, who had said nothing, and brooded in his corner cot, silent like a thunder cloud. “Where are you from?”

“None of your business. And anyway, won’t matter as I don’t ever plan to return.” He bit out, the bitterness creating a stiff mask on the boy’s dark face.

All the others were surprised by the outburst, and Solomon blushed a deep red when he realized that he had let his emotions get the better of him. It was obvious that the remark was only half-meant for the people in the dim dormitory. But whoever Solomon had really spoken to, whatever shadow haunted him, no one asked. Everyone looked around embarrassed, and the conversation ground to a halt for several moments.

Only Mistress seemed unperturbed. Her coal-black eyes kept impassively observing Solomon as though he was a particularly interesting book.

“Right then, nice to meet everyone.” Edward salvaged the situation, quickly dissipating the tension in the air. “Anyone knows what comes next? Clue me in, old pals.”

Unconsciously, all eyes slid towards Mistress Addlebern, to provide them with an answer.

“We drink these,” she held up her vial, “and then pick our Sign.” She explained to the group.

The conversation nervously moved to the Signs, and there it darted back and forth, like a confused rabbit, looking for its den in unfamiliar woods.

Meredith became aware of the Signs as soon as she knew she was going to the Academy. She had found a shiny pamphlet in her local bookstore.

So You Want to Be a Sorcerer! The blocky title letters proclaimed.

In this pamphlet, which touched with utmost brevity on many subjects too dense, too arcane to be seriously explored in a trifold, Meredith learned that each Sorcerer had a Sign. There were twelve Signs in total. As far as she could gather, these Signs were as important in Sorcery as flour and sugar were in bakeries, and tea and coffee were to cafes and tearooms.

Meredith had tried to memorize them, hoping it might help her somehow in the Academy. She knew she was ill-prepared. It was part and parcel of her nervousness, coming to the esteemed Sorcerer’s Academy with no background, no experience to speak of.

The Signs she remembered best were the animals: Snake, Rabbit, Sparrow, and Octopus. She thought she might like to pick one of those Signs, if for no reason other than she liked animals, and they generally liked her back.

Then, she thought there might be a few plant signs, maybe Oak and another tree. Oh, Palm! Palm was definitely a Sign she knew. There were two other plants, but Meredith struggled to remember what they were.

Four animals, four plants, and four objects; Meredith had made neat columns in her head for the Signs, and noticing that each one belonged to one of three categories, divided them up for easier recall.

Except Meredith’s nerves always made remembering things impossible.

She could spend all night studying for her classes. Meredith would be sure, the night before, that she had all the information neatly and primly folded in her head, like socks in a drawer.

But then, come test day (Meredith was the worst test taker) all she could think about was the ticking clock, the other students glaring at her back, and the teacher’s strict countenance; all the socks of knowledge flew right out of Meredith’s head.

This was the case now. Meredith had read everything she could find on Sorcery. Her local bookshop had a very scant collection, and her school library was even worse. Of the scraps she did find, she had tried to commit the most important aspects to memory.

But, being around four other teenagers, being in the same dormitory as them, and having to share living quarters with boys, it was all simply too much. Meredith was very scared that they would immediately single her out as an idiot, a faker, and she would make a name even worse than Slimeary for herself, in this new world of Sorcerers.

“Anyone know what they’re going to pick?” Edward asked, nervously looking at the other Apprentices.

“Obviously, going to skip right over Ladle and Pitchfork.” Julius started his enumeration. “Oak and Palm seem okay,” the boy said, looking at the ceiling as he thought, “Snake is too one dimensional, and anyway, I need no help with romance if you catch my drift.”

Snake’s main attribute was romance, Meredith gathered. That one was probably off the table for Meredith. As far as she remembered, each Sign had different attributes, which would theoretically help a Sorcerer with one area of their life or another. Meredith very clearly remembered that there had been no Sign that helped with nervousness or shyness. Otherwise, she would have circled it, jotted it down, maybe even tattooed it, and picked it.

“Oh, a lady killer are you?” Edward asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Still at large, wanted in three counties.” Julius quipped back with a wolfish grin. Meredith blushed, but the girl next to her, Mistress, snorted derisively.

“And what will the General’s daughter be picking, if I may presume to ask?” Julius asked the other girl.

“Arrow.” Was the girl’s short answer.

“Makes sense for a General’s daughter, doesn’t it. Too easy to read, you are.” Julius said, and Meredith had the impression he was trying to draw out Mistress, inviting her to the battlefield of words.

It didn’t work. The other girl remained silent and made no move to answer the boy in kind.

“Then there’s Octopus,” Julius continued, unperturbed, “that one seems okay…”

Probably in an effort to stop Julius from going through each Sign, Edward turned towards Meredith.

“What about you? You got one picked out?” He asked her.

“Oh, um, not really, maybe- maybe Sparrow, or, or Rabbit.” Meredith said, clutching at the scraps of information she could retain as the boys’ eyes bored into her blushing face.

“Shy one, aren’t you?” Julius piped up, and Meredith felt her blush deepen. The boy laughed, but there was no real malice in it. “Oh, don’t let it worry you. I prefer a shy lass, a wilting violet. Better than a condescending bi- princess.” The boy finished, and, even though everyone knew the last bit referred to Mistress, no one had the courage to look at her to see how the remark landed (it barely made an impact on the girl’s stony face).

Meredith wanted to jump under the covers. She wanted to sink through the floor. She did not want to be compared to the admirable, confident, all-knowing girl, sitting calmly and coolly, a few feet to her right. She knew such a comparison would make Meredith come up embarrassingly short.

And, much more importantly, she did not want to make an enemy out of the much more capable girl. Meredith remembered Julie Evans much too vividly to tangle with another girl like that.

“Anyway,” Julius continued, totally unphased, “I would not take Sparrow or Rabbit. My advice only, here, lass, but do give old Julius your ear. They aren’t as low as Ladle or Pitchfork on the totem pole, but close enough.”

“I was actually thinking about Sparrow,” Edward spoke up, and the attention blissfully moved away from Meredith.

Apparently, Sparrow was good for travel, something Meredith made herself try, very hard, to remember. Edward figured it would be a good Sign for himself, as he would probably continue his rambling life, living with the troupe of actors he had always lived with.

“I’d have pegged you as a Water Lily, no offense.” Julius said to Edward.

“None taken,” Edward said, nonplussed, confused as to why Water Lily would cause any offense, “But I’m not trying to follow my folk’s footsteps. Just don’t have the artistic fire in me, truth be told.” He explained.

“Ah, what a shame,” Julius said.

Water Lily helped artists. Meredith’s eyebrows crawled low over her eyes, as she tried to remember this tidbit, and file it away with the rest.

No one asked the dark boy, Solomon, what he would pick.

The subject wound down, and eventually, Edward spoke up again, voicing the fears that were in Meredith’s heart as well.

“Er, does anyone actually know how we’ll pick them? I gather it has to do with the potion, but what’s actually going to happen to us?” He asked the room at large, but all four sets of eyes turned towards Mistress Addlebern. She had become the unspoken, unelected, but still very palpably real leader, of the five Apprentices.

Noticing everyone’s attention, Mistress took a moment and then spoke.

“We’ll drink these potions, then go to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up, and already have our Signs.” She said, holding up the vial.

“So, we pick them, in our sleep?” Asked Julius, forgetting to load his question with a barbed remark.

“Yes.” Mistress answered.

“Right then, I suppose we should start getting ready to bed down…” Edward said, and started rummaging in his traveling trunk.

Meredith looked around.

Before coming to the Academy, she had received an official Memorandum from the Guild of Sorcerers. The other Apprentices must have received identical instructions to her own. Reading past the directions, time, and place of their first meeting (10 pm. February First, the Courtyard of the Fine Academy of Sorcerous Arts in Black Abbey, Leytown, 10 miles north of Celine City), Meredith had found enclosed a list of things to bring along with her. It was very short, which made Meredith, and her mother, very happy.

To Bring:

On Bag of Clothes, enough to last a week, or less, if more frequent laundering is preferred.

On Bag of Products required by the Apprentice to maintain a socially acceptable level of hygiene.

Bring nothing else, but your own self, and the clothes on your back.

“Look, they don’t even need you to buy anything. Oh thank goodness, Merry, this is really happening!” Her mother had exclaimed, reading the list over the girl’s shoulder.

Upon the group’s decision to get ready for bed, they immediately ran into a problem. There were three boys and two girls, and despite Julius’s bold claims of romantic victories, no one, including him, was keen on getting out of their traveling clothes in front of the opposite gender. After all, they had only just met.

They searched the room, and found, behind Solomon’s corner bed, a door, tucked out of the way, which led to a bathroom even more cramped than the dormitory.

“Now, if I may propose something,” Julius said, “There are two girls and three guys. Why don’t our comrades of the fairer sex take the bathroom, and us guys will change here, in the dormitory?”

Again, four pairs of eyes moved to Mistress, seeing whether she approved the decision. The girl shrugged, picked up some belonging out of her traveling bag, and strode to the bathroom. So, it was settled.

Meredith grabbed her own night things and followed the other girl.

She tried to stay out of the other girl’s way as much as possible. Meredith practically melted into the bathroom wall, trying to give Mistress room to maneuver.

The other girl looked quizzically at Meredith, and began to change her clothes. She was lean, muscular, and much more developed. Meredith tried to look away to give the other girl privacy, but they were scrunched together in the tiny room, and there was barely any place to even cast a glance.

“Aren’t you going to change?” The other girl asked.

“Oh, r-right. I suppose I should.” Meredith said, barely above a whisper. As she clawed off her clothes, almost getting tied up in her sweater as she took it off, Meredith noticed that Mistress Addlebern moved a little to the side, to give Meredith more space.

She almost tripped over her clothes, hastening to get them off, and then put her nightshirt on. She managed, her cheeks flushed by the time she finished, convinced that Mistress Addlebern thought her a clumsy idiot.

“What do you think of our schoolmates?” Mistress asked her casually, as she started to brush her long, dark hair.

“Oh, they seem very nice, really nice guys, only…”

“Only?” Mistress asked.

“I’m not too keen on sharing a room with boys, to be honest.” Meredith blurted out.

Mistress let out a small chuckle.

“Me neither. Especially with that mouthy one, the lady-killer. But we’ll make do, I’m sure.”

Her voice was rich and her tone, even when casually chatting, carried an aura of command. It dawned on Meredith that this was the most Mistress had spoken since they’d come to the Academy. And, for some reason, she was choosing to speak with Meredith.

Watching the other girl brush her hair, Meredith started to dig through her own bag.

“I forgot my comb…” Meredith blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Oh, here, borrow mine,” Mistress easily slid her own brush into Meredith’s hand.

“Thank you, Mistress!” Meredith said and thought that the other girl’s name really was quite strange. Saying it like that, made it sound like Mistress Addlebern was somehow in charge of Meredith.

A slight smile, like the first warm breeze on the coldest side of a mountain. The first ray of sun peaking behind a cloud after a monster of a thunderstorm.

“You can just call me Tess.”

“I should let you all know before we go to sleep,” Solomon started to talk, and everyone remembered the sullen boy, in the corner cot. They were all getting ready for bed, vials in hand, laying under their blankets.

“I have nightmares sometimes…” He said, and took a long, heavy pause, before continuing.

“Feel free to ignore me, if I start making noises.” Solomon said, his face in a deep frown, “Or wake me up if you’ve had enough.”

The others voiced their assent, promising they would wake him up, and then it was finally time to do the deed.

“Bottoms up!” Julius yelled, and Meredith, her hand shaking madly, emptied the contents of the small vial down her throat.

Nothing happened. They all looked at each other, thinking the same thing.

What a letdown.

One after another, they all went to sleep. Each would have a nearly identical dream that night. Each Apprentice, besides one.